


Happy New Year

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Humor, M/M, New Year's Eve, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 22:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17272232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: When you don't know what to expect and actually end up getting what you want.....but with different results.





	Happy New Year

Even though he was trained to spot patterns in crimes and identify the criminal and the purpose behind the crimes, Sherlock himself was never the sort of person to follow a pattern in his life. His behavior, activities, thoughts, moods, everything swerved left and right like a vehicle or up and down like a lever. He was unpredictable as weather and as impulsive as a child in a playground and living with him was like riding a roller coaster all the time.

 

Not that John Watson didn’t enjoy it. He loved every moment of it. There was never a dull moment around his lover, flat mate and partner in solving crimes. But sometimes, not knowing what would come next put a spanner in his plans for celebrations, special days, weekends.

 

For example, on one of Sherlock’s birthdays John had planned an elaborate dinner at a Michelin star restaurant that served the best Italian cuisine in south London only to watch in dismay as the detective decided to practice how to defuse bombs and enrolled himself in an impromptu class being conducted at the Scotland Yard. During summer John had booked a holiday in Belgium, carefully matching the dates to ensure they could watch the Formula 1 Grand Prix at Spa-Francorchamps. But three days before that date Sherlock disappeared without a word and didn’t return till two days after the Grand Prix was over and casually told John they could travel to Belgium ‘now’ for their holiday.

 

Needless to mention, the holiday didn’t happen until the next year, same time. That too because John had made no plans, he had grabbed a few things and thrown them in a duffel bag, made Sherlock do the same and taken off at the spur of the moment.

 

“Hey John,” Greg Lestrade called out to him as the good doctor left the hospital where he worked, “How is the surgeon doing?”

 

“Just got my license a year ago, finally doing those surgeries entirely on my own,” John said cheerfully, “What brings you here?”

 

“Gift for Myc,” Greg said, “He loves this and it’s available only at that shop across the street.”

 

Greg and Mycroft had been dating for two years and the relationship seemed serious, still they chose to stay in separate houses. John had long given up asking the two men why they chose such an unconventional lifestyle. To each his own.

 

“Nice wine,” John said as he inspected the bottle, “Mighty expensive too.”

“I heard you bought Sherlock something super-expensive this year,” Greg said with a jovial grin.

 

“I got us a gift,” John said honestly, “I got us a car in the first week of December. A Skoda Kodiaq. Though…..he mostly uses it and I rarely get a turn. So I booked a Volkswagen Polo. Good enough to go to the hospital and get back home.”

 

“You really indulge him, don’t you?” Greg said, “So, what plans for the 31st?”

 

“None really,” John said with an air of dejection, “It’s hard to make plans with Sherlock.”

 

***

 

Over the next two days John was asked the same question by Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Mike Stamford. To every person he gave the same answer, that there was no plan for him and Sherlock for New Year’s Eve. After the setback on Christmas he didn’t want more disappointments. John had taken two days off from his duties as a surgeon to accompany Sherlock to the recital of a famous violinist and then attend a house party at the suburbia home of Sherlock’s parents and Sherlock had ended up spending the whole day at a morgue, trying to study injuries on the bodies of three accident victims who were later found to have been ‘murdered’.

 

“It’s okay Harry,” he told his sister who had called to ask him the same question, “You know Sherlock by now. You’ve met him. I’ll just knock back a drink or two and watch some crap telly. Many people do that.”

 

He had been speaking while entering 221B so Mrs. Hudson ended up overhearing him. “Hey, don’t be so disappointed,” the affectionate landlady consoled him, “Living with Sherlock is hard but the rewards are great! But even then, you must not think it’s impossible to make plans for a special day or a Christmas or a New Year’s Eve. Who knows, one day the plans might just work out! You’re a young man, why on earth would you be watching telly on the 31st evening? If not with Sherlock, make plans with some of your friends or colleagues. Go out and have a drink, go to some pub where they have a decent live band playing.”

 

“Nah,” John said with a smile, “I won’t leave Sherl alone on that day. In case he’s at home he’ll end up being all alone. So I’ll stay.”

 

He didn’t notice the look of sympathy on Mrs. Hudson’s face turn into something close to hope and conviction. It was one of those ‘oh here’s a challenge and I must rise to meet it’ look and when the old lady walked back into her flat she had a spring in her step and smile on her lips.

 

***

 

John had to attend to a patient who was in post-surgery care and had begun to feel a bit unwell on 31st morning. After ensuring that the proper medicines were given and the gluttonous man didn’t over-eat merely two days after his gall bladder and appendicitis removal, John came back home around six in the evening, hoping for nothing but an empty flat. Sherlock had been gone since morning that day and, as always, he hadn’t left any note for John nor replied to his texts. What would he not give for a surprise and sex filled evening and maybe a homemade video of the two of them together. Sherlock had been promising one of those for weeks now and never got down to recording them in the 'act'.

 

So, when he entered the flat all downbeat and dragging his steps, his jaw dropped right there on to the floor when he saw Sherlock a few steps from him, sporting a beaming smile on his face. “You….you did all this?” He asked, dazed, pointing at most of the sitting room.

 

Sherlock had set up a tent in the middle of the sitting room. He had meticulously moved the furniture, cleaned the whole room, put a soft plush rug in the middle and pitched the tent over it. Next to the tent was an electric fireplace which John always wanted for the house. Thanks to that the room was cozy and warm and the hypnotic orange glow emanating from it bathed the entire area with a soft, romantic hue. That, along with the twinkling lights from their Christmas tree was enough, there was no need for any additional lights to be on. Still, Sherlock had lit some candles at strategic corners of the room to give it more brightness and cheer.

 

“Of course, I did it all by myself,” Sherlock said proudly, scanning John’s face carefully to see if the doctor really liked the arrangement or not, “Who else would help? Hudders is busy, she is seeing some old coot who owns a travel agency in London and they are busy planning a January getaway in Jamaica!” With that, Sherlock pointed at the carryout he had placed on the kitchen table (John noticed he had cleared the table and removed all of his chemistry kit, remnants of previous experiments, books and notes), the bottle of wine and two glasses next to the tent and the stack of pillows and a fluffy blanket inside it. John even noticed a teddy bear there, which almost made him chuckle.

 

A teddy bear!

 

“This is for the New Year?” John asked, eyes wide and heart glad. So, Sherlock did care! He had gone out of his way to organize all of this.

 

“Nope, for Easter,” Sherlock joked, “Do you like it?”

 

“Yes, I love it. This is fantastic.”

 

“I have put some more….erm….things inside the tent. Lube, toys….those kind of things, you know….so we can ehm…..spend the night in there.”

 

“Really?! That’s so….romantic! And very unique, just like you!!!”

 

Sherlock thumped his chest, “There can never be more than one Sherlock Holmes or someone even remotely close to Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“And I am a lucky man to have him, all to myself?” John asked. When Sherlock blushed slightly, showing his ‘other’ side, the one which allowed John to dominate, dote and dandle him the way he liked, John could no longer hold himself back. He grabbed Sherlock and dragged him inside the tent, the springy, colorful canvas structure shook violently as the two men landed on their sleeping bags, amidst the sea of pillows Sherlock had thrown in. The sleeping bags had been strapped together so it took John little time to start using it like their bed.

 

Clothes went flying and Sherlock was down to his boxers, which had been pulled down mid-thigh, and his socks, when John spotted the massive erection the detective sported already. A groan left his throat and the doctor lost control and dove between Sherlock’s long pins, sucking his lover hard.

 

“Jaawhnnn….nnngg!!!”

 

Sherlock’s sounds of pleasure and ecstasy were so sexy that John got impossibly hard from simply giving his lover some hot oral. He managed to get his jacket and trousers and shoes off without letting go of the turgid erection he was feasting on but beyond that he needed to disengage. Reluctantly he did so and it left Sherlock so frustrated that he let out a keening cry, grabbed John’s head and pushed it down towards its destination. His urgency and needy side made John smile and he held the thrashing Sherlock down for a moment and looked deep into those blue-green eyes. “Hey, hold on for just a moment, let me get us both out of all our clothes, okay?”

 

“Uhnnn….not my socks.”

 

“No?”

 

“Feet f-feel….uh cold!”

 

“Okay.”

 

John left Sherlock’s socks on and while he had initially thought it would make the man look weird, being all naked and having sex but with the socks on, Sherlock actually managed to look quite cute. John went back to work again, sucking and licking on Sherlock’s erection while one thought circled inside his head. He found Sherlock cute, sexy, hot, beautiful, handsome, suave, charming, amazing in every aspect. No matter what this man looked like or did, he would never ever seem anything less than ‘desirable’ in John’s eyes.

 

“Ffffffuck!”

 

The loud curse was followed by a guttural cry of climax and Sherlock released in John’s mouth. The older man drank him down and kept licking him clean even as he shuddered and spasmed like a fish out of water.

 

“God, I love you,” John declared as he started to caress Sherlock’s naked body with devotion, causing Sherlock’s already flushed face to grow even redder. It was the usual ‘blush’ he displayed whenever he got one of John’s compliments or heard a declaration of the good doctor’s feelings for him. These were the moments when John didn’t mind Sherlock’s unpredictability or his eccentricity, not even a little bit.

 

“Do me,” Sherlock whispered.

 

John playfully bit at one of the younger man’s nipples and then soothed and laved it with his wet tongue. “Pardon,” he said deliberately, wanting the other man to say those words out aloud, “What did you just say?”

 

“I-I said can you p-please…..me?” Sherlock was now beetroot red. His eyes were closed tight.

 

Knowing how coy and shaky Sherlock could be when it came to sex, intimacy and asking for anything explicitly in bed, John let it go and kissed those closed lids and the slightly open mouth. Then he started to lube up his throbbing dick with his left hand while the fingers of his right hand skimmed Sherlock’s tight opening. The puckered entrance was tight, soft, it twitched the moment John touched it. “I’ll need to open you up, just a little bit,” he whispered in a husky voice, “Or else you’ll get hurt my love! But first…..” he glanced down pitifully at himself, “I need to cum. I’m so excited I don’t think I can make it inside without a bit of ‘milking’ first.”

 

Sherlock shyly extended his hand and John gladly guided his erection to it. Those long fingers closed around it and Sherlock gave it a few tugs, his inexperienced hand and shy methods not exactly the best, but for John even this was too good. He pushed his hips forward, letting himself fuck Sherlock’s fist, and came with a heartfelt, grateful groan merely seconds later. His released spilled over Sherlock’s fingers and those aquamarine eyes opened wide, taking in the sight of John’s dripping cock.

 

Then those eyes turned pleadingly towards John’s warm brown ones.

 

Sherlock didn’t say a word but John understood him and what he needed. Sherlock wanted him inside as soon as possible. He could barely wait, especially after seeing John lose it so easily he was rock hard again. Despite their obvious differences in matters of both the heart and brain, they were still one soul in two bodies. They understood each other perfectly and no words were necessary.

 

John inserted one finger inside Sherlock and at the same time took the young man’s cock back into his mouth. “Ohhhhh,” Sherlock’s entire torso undulated with sensations and his legs lifted in the air automatically. One of his toes touched the roof of the pop-up tent most comically.

 

“Yesss,” John spoke with satisfaction and lust, inserting a second finger and opening up his lover nice and slow, sensing the shift in Sherlock’s body from tense to relaxed and eager, “You’re so hot and hard Sherl, so ready for me. Are you going to splatter it the moment I am inside you? Wanna feel me fully inside, so deep you can forget trying to find out where I begin and you end?”

 

“John, yoohooo, Johnnn!”

 

John had just pushed in a third finger and he looked at Sherlock crossly, “Not exactly the best way to talk when I am just about to stick it deep inside you.”

 

“But-But in case you apply your average analytical skills and slightly above average powers of observation and deduction, you’d know I never use that kind of jargon, nor is my voice so thin and high pitched. It may also be noted that I never call you John. Not J-O-H-N but Jawn……”

 

“Oh God, enough with the lecture!” John was exasperated, “There’s bigger shit to be worried about. If it’s not you then who on earth was calling out to me?”

 

The answer came within a split second. The same voice called out to John the very next moment. “Yoohooo, John, Sherlock, Jooooohn, hey you two, we are here to celebrate New Year’s Eve with you, all of us!” John and Sherlock jumped up on their sleeping bags and looked at the door, alarmed, then stared at each other in abject horror and shock. By now they had identified the voice, it belonged to Doctor Mike Stamford, a common friend and acquaintance of both John and Sherlock and from the other murmurs and laughter they could hear, they realized Mrs. Hudson was with him too. And what was worse…..they were all on their way upstairs to their flat!!!

 

“At least six people,” Sherlock was still doing deductions, “No, seven. From their steps and sounds on the staircase, I can hear Hudders, Stamford, Molly….yuck….she is here too and-and oh no, Guy is here, Guy Lestrade….double yuck and oh fuck, oh fuck, that deliberative yet light steps up the stairs, shuffling footsteps on the landing, even Mycroft is here…..triple yuck!”

 

“Who-Who are the other two then?”

 

“Stilettos, who the fuck wears Stilettos? Molly doesn’t, Hudders cannot, then who…..”

 

“Harry and Karen!”

 

“Why would the Prince and his American wife want to visit us? I agree we have done some pretty good service to the nation but to get a visit from them, I think that’s a bit much.”

 

John did a facepalm, “Not Harry and Megan, Harry and Karen, HARRIET AND KAREN. My sister and her new partner!!!” When he saw Sherlock was about to ask another silly question, John gave him a shove and threw his clothes at him, “We are naked, lubed up, covered with semen and lying here in the living room in a pop-up tent. And that door is unlocked and there’s no time to go bolt it. So…..just wear the Goddamned clothes, fast. We can think through things later, at a better time!”

 

They managed to wear their clothes in super-fast time. But it was a shoddy job, like most rushed jobs were, and by the time the group entered their flat singing ‘Happy New Year’, John was fully dressed save for his fly and one of his socks Sherlock was also fully dressed save for his shirt worn inside out and his underwear which lay prominently and embarrassingly on the floor before the tent.

 

The reactions from their ‘uninvited’ guests were comical but the humor of the situation was lost on John and Sherlock who were embarrassed to the point where they wanted the earth to open up and swallow them right there.

 

Mycroft looked disgusted and turned up his nose which made him look like an otter, Greg Lestrade looked horny and licked his lips, thereby confirming his lust for the younger Holmes, Mrs. Hudson looked cheeky and ‘I told you so’, Harriet chuckled in the ‘You too brother’ way, Karen ran back out of the door with her hand covering her eyes, Mike Stamford stood open-mouthed as if he had swallowed a frog and Molly fainted.

 

Later John was told that people had felt very sorry for him because of the multiple times he had been let down by his whimsical and unpredictable boyfriend and to compensate for the setback of Christmas they had ganged up and planned to surprise John (and Sherlock, if he was available) and celebrate New Year’s Eve with him. They had even roped in someone like Mycroft who generally abhorred human company and celebrations and called Harry all the way from her county home to London to join the party. Champagne, Cognac, delicious Italian takeout, a jukebox of the best party songs, everything had been arranged for the best entertainment of the group but the entire effort, while not wasted, had started off with such a shocker for all that it took them hours to recover.

 

It was all meant in good fun but the fun came mostly at Sherlock and John’s expense. People laughed at their pop-up tent, the packet of flavored lollies, the six bottles of lube, the toys, the teddy plushie and the watermelon (John hadn’t noticed it along with the others and was almost gob-smacked.....seriously, what had Sherlock planned with that fruit, he wondered for several days) they found in the tent.

 

A week later, as they sat in their room shortly after a client had left, Sherlock suddenly quipped, “Whatever happened was bad, especially my underwear and how Molly looked at it and fainted and all that…..but we must never forget my dear Watson, it could have been a lot worse.”

 

“I was caught with my fly down and my face streaked with lube by practically all the people I know and am close to,” John snorted in disdain, “How exactly could it have been worse than that, huh?”

 

“Mycroft called me today.”

 

“Yeah, and? Don’t tell me they got me sucking you off on a surveillance camera.”

 

“Worse. He said Hudders wanted to invite mummy and daddy to the surprise party and they declined at the last moment.”

 

“Oh…….”

 

John didn’t complain after that, but he was now sure _‘It couldn’t get worse than being caught in a compromising situation by your partner’s parents’_. However, the worst was yet to come.

 

A month later Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran kidnapped John and held him in custody for three days so he could give them blowjob lessons because, while Sherlock had disabled Mycroft’s surveillance cameras in and around 221B, he had apparently missed disabling the two which the criminal mastermind had set up. They had watched with lascivious interest and noted every minute details of John fellating Sherlock and Sherlock coming like a rocket.

 

But then that’s another story.


End file.
